DivergenceConvergence
by Catmint
Summary: A proposition from Vance presents Tony DiNozzo with a huge decision to make about his future with the agency.
1. Proposition

**Divergence/Convergence**

 **Disclaimer:** All characters property of CBS, not mine, alas.

Began writing this in January when it was first announced that Michael Weatherly was leaving at the end of the current season. Due to various life things it's taken until now to get it written, typed up and posted. Read and enjoy!

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Chapter 1: Proposition

"Man, I love closing a case," declared Special Agent Tony DiNozzo, flopping down into his desk chair.

I'll happily never set eyes on that creep ever again," added probationary agent Ellie Bishop. She shuddered. "I swear he spent that entire interrogation undressing me with his eyes."

"He did," confirmed Special Agent Tim McGee from behind her, making her jump. "Sorry."

Tony laced his fingers behind his head and put his feet up on his desk, gazing up at the balcony above. His eyes landed on NCIS Director Leon Vance, who was looking down into the squadroom, deep in thought. When he realised Tony was looking at him, he broke out of his thoughts and met the agent's eyes, beckoning to him. "Agent DiNozzo, with me." His voice carried over the unusually-quiet room.

Tony immediately scrambled to his feet and glared at McGee. "Did you tell him about this morning's incident? You promised you wouldn't!"

"You really think I'd do that?" retorted McGee. "I'm not as mean as you."

Tony narrowed his eyes at him and stalked off, up the stairs to the director's office.

A confused expression on her face, Bishop turned to McGee. "What happened this morning?"

"He reversed into Vance's car."

Bishop winced. "I take it you _didn't_ tell the director?"

McGee shook his head. "Now he owes me. Big time."

Comprehension dawned. " _Ohhhh._ I _see_."

McGee's reply was a smirk.

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When Tony got to the top of the stairs, Vance was waiting by the door to his office (the inner sanctum, as McGee sometimes referred to it). The director's face was neutral; in Tony's experience that could never be a good thing. Had McGee brazenly lied just now? Had somebody else seen the incident? He _had_ intended to inform Vance, honestly he had, but he'd been in a hurry this morning and there had been a serial rapist-murderer petty officer to deal with. He followed Vance into the office and sat down when the other man gestured to the chairs. "Sir?"

Vance shut the door, strode back to his chair, sat down behind his desk and picked up a file. "You did well, looking after the team while Agent Gibbs recovered from his injuries."

A little thrown, Tony blinked. "Thank you, sir."

"A number of years ago Director Shepard offered you the role of team leader in Rota. You turned it down."

"Uh – yeah. It wasn't right for me."

Vance regarded him intently. "Would you reconsider a permanent team leader position?"

Tony frowned. "Is there something wrong with Gibbs?"

"Not as far as I know."

"Well, sir, I don't know if Rota or Spain'd want me after the last time I was there –"

"Not Rota." Vance handed over the file. "A little further east. You get first pick."

Intrigued, Tony accepted the file and opened it, searching for the location. When he spotted it, his heart skipped a beat: _Tel Aviv, Israel._ He read it several times before it sank in.

"It would be a big move. If you don't want it, I'd understand. You've got forty-eight hours to decide; let me know either way. They recently expanded the role of the office and Agent Hawkes helped set it up; with him retiring, they need a good, experienced agent in charge."

"When you say 'in charge', do you mean in charge of the team or the whole office?"

Offering his agent a small smile, Vance said, "The latter."

Tony blinked. "Wow. I, uh – I'm flattered, sir. Thank you for considering me." His head was whirling with the prospect as he skimmed the file. It was certainly an appealing prospect – if he was honest with himself, the idea of being a permanent team leader and in charge of the entire office was exciting, and with Zoe now out of his life, perhaps a fresh start was what he needed.

And did Vance know something he didn't? With the position being where it was, he couldn't help wondering. He raised his head from the file. "Can I think about it?"

"Of course. Just remember you've got forty-eight hours." Vance held out his hand and Tony returned the file to him. This time the director smiled more broadly and Tony nodded at him before leaving.

Instead of going straight back to the others, Tony made a beeline to Autopsy. He wasn't ready to broach the subject with Gibbs (and anyway, the man was busy with other things) but Ducky would provide an excellent ear.

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"Ah, Anthony! What can I do for you?" was the ME's greeting from his desk. "Is there something amiss with the petty officer?"

"You mean _other_ than his brain and his Neanderthal attitude to women?"

Ducky sighed, then shook his head. "A thoroughly unpleasant affair indeed."

"He'll probably get the injection."

Nodding, Ducky pushed his glasses up his nose. "But you did not come down here to talk about that."

Tony shook his head and perched on the edge of the desk so that he was facing the ME. "Vance called me into his office. He had a…proposition for me."

"Oh?" Ducky's eyebrows went up and he put down his mug.

Tony shifted. "There's a team leader job come up. I'm his first choice."

"That sounds a rather exciting prospect." Ducky scrutinised the agent in front of him. "I get the distinct impression, Anthony, that this job is not here in DC."

"What makes you think that?"

A small smile graced the doctor's lips. "Master's degree in forensic psychology. Also, I've worked with you for a long time; I know you well. So where is it? LA? Florida? Somewhere else on the other side of the country?"

Tony let out a deep sigh. "Actually, it's abroad."

"I see. Which office?"

"The, uh…" He cleared his throat. "The new one. In Israel."

"I _see_. Well, that would be a substantial change. Do you want it?"

Shrugging, Tony got to his feet and began pacing.

Comprehension registered on Ducky's face. "You need someone to talk to about it, someone who won't let their emotions take over and beg you to stay."

"Exactly." He knew Ducky was discreetly referring to their forensic scientist.

"Pros and cons. Cons first."

Tony exhaled. "I'd miss you guys. A _lot_. All of you. Then there's my dad – I'd be leaving him without anyone and he's getting on a bit now. He moved to DC to be closer to me. I don't know anyone out in Israel. It's not exactly a big office, either. And then you've got the political situation – hardly a laid-back, terrorism-free area. My life would be different – I mean _really_ different." He stopped, collecting his thoughts and running through his reservations, wondering if he had missed anything.

"And the pros."

Tony ran his hand through his hair, making it stick up. "I guess…I'd get to lead my own team, not just be standing in for Gibbs for a while. And I kinda like that idea. It's a big promotion, so the pay would be better – although I'm sure Senior would then expect me to bail him out of even more difficult situations. I don't have any romantic ties. A change might do me some good. It won't be stupidly cold in winter; I like warm places."

Ducky nodded, a shrewd look in his eyes. "Anything else?"

"Not that I can think of." He stopped pacing and looked more closely at Ducky, only now fully registering the ME's expression. "Why? What do you think I've missed?"

Ducky shrugged, a mild smile on his face for a moment before he grew serious again. "What exactly happened with you and Ms Keats? All Mr Palmer told me was that it ended."

"It wasn't working out. It was hot and then the fizzle went. I ended it when I realised that."

"Sounds like it was for the best."

Tony looked the ME right in the eye. "There's something you're thinking but not saying."

"Is there?"

"I'm not in the mood for this, Ducky; just say what's on your mind."

"Alright then, my lad." Ducky straightened his shoulders and met Tony's gaze, his face serious. "I was thinking perhaps it would be a chance to reconnect with Ms David."

And there it was. Tony had been trying not to think about that possibility, but now Ducky had spoken the words, mentioned her name, he could no longer ignore it. Not wanting to be too closely analysed he asked, "Is that a pro or a con?"

"You tell me, Anthony," replied Ducky, smiling knowingly. When Tony opened his mouth to protest, the ME merely gave him a hard look.

" _Fine_ ," conceded Tony. "I don't know. I don't know if I want to or not. I don't know if she'd want to. I don't know if I'd even be able to track her down." He meant it – his head was whirling with all the potential scenarios his brain could conjure. What if he found her and she got angry and told him he should never have come? What if she had somebody now and Tony's arrival hurt her, served only to complicate matters and made things intolerable? What if –.

"I cannot tell you," Ducky informed him, breaking into Tony's thoughts, "but perhaps you are being given the opportunity to re-form that link."

"What if she doesn't want anything to do with me?"

"And what if she _does_ but you reject the job and never take that chance? I've seen people bitterly regret not finding out either way and I know you, Anthony – you need to know one way or the other."

"You think I should take the job?" asked Tony. He wasn't sure what Ducky was getting at, which way the ME thought he should choose.

"I would miss you a great deal, I can't pretend otherwise, as would we all, but I think you would spend the rest of your life regretting it and wondering 'what if'. Besides, becoming a team leader permanently is an excellent opportunity. But I also advise sleeping on it and not making any hasty decisions before a good night's sleep."

Tony slowly nodded as he took in the older man's words. "Makes sense, I guess. I'll do that."

Smiling, Ducky patted the agent's knee. "Sensible lad. Let me know what you decide."

"Of course. Thanks, Duckman. See you later." He got to his feet and left Autopsy with Ducky's goodbye in his ears.

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 **TBC**


	2. Announcement

**Divergence/Convergence**

 **Disclaimer:** All characters property of CBS, not mine, alas.

Thanks to the reviewers who have left kind words; I'm glad you're enjoying it and I hope you continue to do so! I appreciate any constructive criticism you have to offer. For those whose only comment was that they don't like Ziva/Tiva/etc and who had nothing constructive to offer, I'm not forcing you to read this. You know where the back button is and how to close a tab. Don't like, don't read – it's that simple. There are other fics out there. Or write your own.

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Chapter 2: Announcement

Still surprised at how early he was the following morning, Tony strode into the squadroom with coffee and doughnuts for the entire team, including Abby, Palmer and Ducky. He had taken care not to mention the job offer to anyone besides the ME, having told Bishop and McGee that his meeting with Vance was simply to confirm that they had closed their case.

Bishop was already at her desk, so Tony waltzed up to her and placed a cup of coffee and a doughnut in front of her. Startled, the movement drawing her away from her computer screen, her head shot up, and she reached for the coffee – then paused, hand in mid-air, eyeing Tony suspiciously. "What's wrong with them?"

Tony feigned hurt. "What do you mean, Probie? Can't I just be nice for once?"

"I know you, DiNozzo. You're never 'just nice'. What did you do to them? What prank are you pulling on us this time?"

"Nothing! Why don't you believe me?"

"Because last time you bought her coffee you put chillies in it, DiNozzo," answered Gibbs from behind him.

"I swear I didn't do anything this time!"

"'This time'? So you admit that the chilli thing _was_ you?" Bishop pulled her hand back from the offering.

Tony narrowed his eyes at Gibbs before offering the coffee tray to him. "The one with the G is yours, Boss. You know I wouldn't mess with your coffee. Rule Twenty-Three and all that."

Gibbs removed the proffered cup and took a cautious sip, his eyes never leaving Tony's face. "It's fine," he assured Bishop, selecting a doughnut.

" _Told_ you," Tony couldn't resist throwing in Bishop's direction. She stuck her tongue out at him.

"So what's the occasion?" asked Gibbs, cocking his head on one side.

"Can't I just be nice?"

Gibbs arched an eyebrow and walked away, leaving the other two agents to do…whatever it was they were doing.

Tony was about to direct a snarky comment towards Bishop when he caught sight of Vance, who was surveying the squadroom, his own coffee in hand; the agent bit back the comment, put his offerings on his desk, asked Bishop to tell the others about them and hurried up the staircase. She gave him a confused look but shrugged and went back to her emails.

Hearing the agent's approach, the director turned to face him. "Good morning, Agent DiNozzo."

"Good morning, sir." Tony took a moment to catch his breath from the stair-dash.

"Something I can do for you?"

"Yeah, actually, there is."

"Want some privacy?" asked Vance, regarding him closely.

After checking there was nobody within earshot, Tony shook his head. "No need. I want to take the job."

Vance arched an eyebrow. "You sure? It's a big change."

"Absolutely." He couldn't remember the last time he'd felt this sure about anything.

"Very well." Vance smiled in satisfaction. "I had a feeling you'd take it. It's a good opportunity, one you won't get elsewhere for a while."

"I know."

The director's smile broadened and he held out his hand. "Congratulations, Agent DiNozzo. Come see me at two this afternoon and we'll work out the details."

Tony shook the hand. "I'll be there. I'd better go tell Ducky I've made my decision."

"You do that."

Extracting his hand from the director's, Tony made his way down to Autopsy, a light bounce in his step now the weight of the decision had lifted from his shoulders.

As the doors swished open, Ducky looked up from his mug of tea and arched an eyebrow when he saw who it was. There was no sign of Palmer. "You seem…unencumbered," the ME observed.

"I decided."

"And?"

"I'm going. I'm taking the job," Tony said.

"I thought you would." Ducky smiled sadly. "I'll miss you, Anthony. We all will."

"I know, Ducky. And I'll miss you guys. But I realised last night that this is a rare opportunity and that I've gotta go where my heart is, and…well…"

"Your heart is wherever Ms David is," Ducky finished for him.

His expression a little bashful, Tony nodded. "I've got to at least try. Like you said, if I don't, I'll spend the rest of my life wondering what-if. If it doesn't work out, Tel Aviv's a big enough city and the possibility this job offers is amazing. And if the worst comes to the worst, I could come back to DC."

"Exactly, my lad. I'm proud of you for realising that and for taking that leap into the unknown." Ducky patted his arm.

"I'm seeing Vance this afternoon to sort out all the details." He ran his hand through his hair.

"Just promise me you'll keep in touch."

"It'll be like I never left."

Ducky chuckled. "I hope so, my lad. I hope so."

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At two o'clock sharp, Tony reported to Vance's office and was immediately ushered inside by the secretary. The director was standing by the window and he gestured to the chair in which Tony had sat the previous day, a smile on his face. "Please, sit."

Obligingly, Tony did so, pulling the chair close to the desk.

"You ready for this?"

Tony replied with a firm nod. "Yes. Yes I am."

"Good." Vance began laying out various documents on the desk. "I've spoken to the office in Tel Aviv. Hawkes retires on the twelfth of next month, so you've got five weeks to get things organised. I'll want you starting at seven am on the fifteenth. You've got a bit of leeway about when you finish here but I would advise against any later than the fifth. We can sort you out with an apartment if you want us to, same for a car."

"That would make things easier, yeah. I'll take you up on that," said Tony. "Thanks."

Vance tapped a closed folder. "This contains information on the agents who'll be working for you. There are five in total. They're good people.

"Here's the paperwork for your transfer; I'll need a few signatures from you. I also need you to be discreet about this outside of the agency – your father, for instance, can know you're in Israel, but not where. National security, nothing personal, but I don't trust him to accidentally let slip, especially when he's had a couple of drinks."

"I wouldn't trust him either, sir."

The paperwork was more intensive than Tony had anticipated and it kept him in the director's office for a good half-hour. When he had finished, he sat back in the chair and exhaled loudly. "Man, that's a lot of paperwork."

"Sorry about that. New offices can have that effect," replied Vance, gathering up the documents. "You can go tell the others now, if you want."

Recognising the dismissal, Tony stood up, shook Vance's hand and left the office. He paused at the top of the stairs, watching his colleagues – not just his team, but also the other agents – go about their work, committing it to memory. A wave of sadness washed over him: this place held so many memories, good and bad, and had been his life for a decade and a half. It was gut-wrenching to leave all this, his family in so many ways, but he knew he had made the right choice. It was time to move on, time for a change, and perhaps finally – if she would let him – build a life with the woman he now realised was his soulmate.

The thought triggered a past conversation with her:

" _Do you ever think about soulmates?"_

" _They were on Decca, right? Big hit, mid-Seventies? Sort of a disco thing? Sing a few bars, I'll get it."_

" _You'll never get it."_ And she had stalked off in a huff.

He took a deep breath and descended into the squadroom. McGee was typing away furiously on his keyboard, no doubt finalising his report on their current case; Bishop was on the phone, a smile on her face as she made girl plans with Abby for the weekend. Gibbs was near the wall, scrutinising the Most Wanted with a cup of coffee. Tony skirted their team's area and approached his team leader. "Boss?"

Gibbs turned to face him and arched one eyebrow.

"I, uh – I need to talk to you. Everyone. I, uh, I've got an announcement. Abby's lab?"

Nodding, Gibbs gestured towards the other two agents in their team with his coffee cup; Tony got the message and headed over to the others. McGee was too focused on his task to notice; Bishop, sensing the mood, told Abby she would call her back and put the phone down. "What's up?" asked their most junior agent.

"Group meeting. Abby's lab. McFocused, get Ducky and Palmer," ordered Tony.

"What?" McGee raised his head, his face reflecting his confusion. Tony repeated the instructions and McGee, realising he was serious, picked up his desk phone to call Autopsy. Bishop and Gibbs headed to the lift, Tony and McGee behind them.

They were met by Abby, a little baffled at the sudden influx, who nevertheless welcomed them with her usual enthusiasm and loud music. "Is there a party?" She made a sad face at Bishop. Why didn't you tell me? I could have brought cake. And snacks. You need snacks for a party."

Bishop held up her hands, palms facing upwards. "If there is a party nobody told me." She pointed at Tony. "He just said he had an announcement and ordered us down here."

"Oh. Gibbs?" Her question was met by a shrug and shake of the former Marine's head. "Tony?"

Tony shook his head. "We're not all here yet."

"O – _kay_ …" Abby pouted, arms crossed sulkily over her chest. The music volume shot up. Tony yelped; Abby smirked. Tony pulled a childish face at her; McGee and Bishop caught each other's eyes and rolled their eyes at each other.

"Abigail, is this racket _absolutely_ necessary?" demanded Ducky from the doorway. Behind him, Palmer had his hands over his ears and a screwed-up face.

Abby dropped the volume and only then did Ducky enter the lab. "Sorry, Ducky."

"Hm." The ME still looked disgruntled and remained by the doorway, Palmer stepping in beside him. "So to what do we owe this gathering?"

All eyes turned to Tony, who cleared his throat, stood up straighter and stepped forwards. "Thank you for all coming here at such short notice –"

"It's not like we had to come very far," pointed out McGee. He let out a small squawk as Abby elbowed him in the ribs and glared at him.

" _Anyway_ ," continued Tony, shooting a dirty look at the other agent, "I have something to tell you all and I wanted to do it just the once." He paused for dramatic effect. "I've been here at NCIS for quite a long time. Some might even say I've become a legend whose reputation precedes him –"

"Not always in the way you'd like," heckled McGee, earning himself another glare while Bishop and Abby giggled, Ducky chuckled, Palmer laughed and even Gibbs snorted.

Tony clasped his hands together in front of his chest. "There does, however, come a point in a person's life when something comes along, an offer they simply can't refuse."

Sensing a shift in his tone, Abby narrowed her eyes at him. "What's going on? This sounds like change. I don't like change. Is this change?"

Tony took a deep breath. "Yeah, Abby, I'm afraid it is."

"Are you going to make us guess?" asked Bishop, her tone impatient. "I don't really want to do that, just so you know."

"The director offered me a job. Team leader and basically running the entire field office."

"Field office?" asked McGee suspiciously.

"That sounds like not here," Abby challenged Tony. "Is it not here?"

Tony nodded. "It's not here."

"Then where is it? It's not Hawaii, is it? Because that's, like, _way_ too far away."

He shook his head, knowing that she was going to _hate_ the next part. "It's not in the US."

Silence. Abby muted her music.

McGee blinked. Bishop wrinkled her forehead. Palmer took a step away from the forensic scientist, dreading and anticipating the fallout. Ducky gave Tony a nervous look.

"It's the field office in Tel Aviv. I'm moving to Israel."

There was a clatter of plastic as Abby dropped the remote. " _What_?"

Bishop and McGee shot each other nervous looks and as a single unit retreated behind Gibbs. Palmer sidled behind Ducky. All awaited the imminent explosion.

"What. The hell. Are. You. _Thinking_?" Abby took a platform-boot-heavy step towards Tony, who recoiled. "Why the hell are you leaving us? What have we done to deserve this? After everything we've been through together you're going to just _walk away_? We're a _family_ here, Tony, or have you forgotten that? You don't just walk out on family."

He resented that. "I'm not 'just walking away'. Yeah, you guys are my family. You always will be. And this won't change that. It'll be like I've gone away to college. I'll come back when I can for visits but I'm moving on to a new stage in my life."

"I'm not doing your laundry for you, DiNozzo," Gibbs warned, deadpan; his comment made everyone laugh, though it was a little strained.

"Why now?" pressed Abby.

"Agent Hawkes is retiring and Vance wants someone out there who he can trust. I got first pick," explained Tony. "I love you guys, I love DC, I love the Navy Yard, but things have changed a lot for me in the last few years and I really, _really_ want this opportunity." He met Abby's angry eyes with an earnest look. "This is my chance to prove myself as a leader, to develop and grow and all that. Can't you be happy for me?"

Her response was silence, with hostility and betrayal exuding from her body.

McGee stepped forwards. "I guess there's nothing we can do or say to keep you here?"

Tony shook his head. "I need to do this, Probie. I want to, I need to and it's the right thing for me."

McGee nodded slowly. "I figured. Believe it or not, I think I'll actually miss you."

"I'm honoured that you think so highly of me."

"I'm still not writing that report for you."

"Damnit," muttered Tony, just loudly enough for everyone to hear.

Bishop snorted, then sobered. "Congratulations on the new job."

"Yeah, congrats," chipped in Palmer. "It won't be the same around here without you."

"I'll visit," promised Tony. "It'll be like I never left."

Gibbs arched one eyebrow at him, then his face softened and he held out his hand. "Go do me proud, DiNozzo."

"On it, Boss," Tony assured him, taking the hand and shaking it. He glanced over to Abby, who was by now visibly less hostile and angry. "Abby?"

She gave him a sad smile. "You're really leaving?" she asked tremulously.

"Yeah, Abs. I'm really leaving." A moment later he let out an "Oof!" as she flung her arms around him and squeezed so tightly he wheezed. "Abs…Air…"

"Sorry!" She hastily released him. "You'll keep in touch?"

"I promise."

"You'll visit?"

"As often as I can."

" _Good_." She hugged him again, though more gently this time. "I'm gonna really really _really_ miss you."

"I know." Over her shoulder, Tony caught Gibbs' eyes; the older man nodded and offered a hint of a smile before slipping out of the lab.

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At eight o'clock that evening, Gibbs looked up from the boat he was working on as he heard footsteps at the top of the basement stairs. Without so much of a glance up towards them, he said, "Evening, DiNozzo."

"Hey, Boss." The beers in one hand, Tony descended and nodded towards the boat. "What's this one gonna be called?"

"Can't decide between Ned and Dorney." Gibbs continued his work.

Tony smiled, though it was tinged with sadness. "Why doesn't that surprise me?" He handed over one of the beers and sat down on the stool.

"When do you start?" asked Gibbs, taking the outstretched beer.

"Just over a month."

"Excited?"

"Very."

"Scared?"

Tony chuckled. "More than I'd ever admit to the others."

"Oh, they know." He paused and scrutinised his senior field agent. "You gonna try to find her?"

He didn't have to ask who Gibbs meant. "I dunno." He truly didn't; it was the one thing that he was struggling with.

"That why you came here tonight?"

"What do you mean?"

"To talk about it." Gibbs took a swig from his beer and resumed his work.

Tony crossed his ankles and stretched out his beer-wielding arm. "I haven't heard from her since I left. If she wanted anything to do with me, she'd've gotten in touch, right? It's not like I'm hard to find. Hell, I haven't even changed my cell number or email or anything. The ball's in her court, it's her move. So her not getting in contact – that probably means she doesn't want me in her life. If I suddenly waltz up, what's gonna happen?"

"What's the worst that could happen if you find her?"

Tony shrugged. "It'd be awkward being so close to her and knowing she didn't want anything to do with me. Israel's not exactly a big country." He ran his free hand through his hair.

"What if she's too scared to make that move? What if she's scared of being hurt again? Of being let down and abandoned again?" Gibbs put down his tool and leaned against the boat, facing Tony. "What would you say if you _did_ find her?"

Tony sighed. "I don't want to repeat the past. I don't want to lose her again."

"How about what you _do_ want? Which is what, by the way? And be honest."

Tony was silent while he attempted to bring some kind of order to his chaotic thoughts and string them into coherent sentences. It was difficult – they were feeling- and emotion-oriented and evading definition. "I guess…" He took a swig of beer; that momentary pause and distraction brought clarity and he sat up straight, uncrossing his ankles. "I want to be with her. I don't feel right without her; it's like a piece of me is missing." He was taken aback with how open he was being with Gibbs, but he suspected that his boss already knew a lot of what he was saying.

"Can't live without her?" supplied Gibbs, face and posture unreadable.

Tony stared at him, his words from almost seven years ago catching him off-guard. "Uh…" he spluttered.

Gibbs visibly softened. "You don't have to pretend."

"I just – I don't know what I'd do if I found her and then it turned out she was in love with some other guy," admitted Tony. It felt good, finally identifying and acknowledging that fear. "What about if she and Adam have hooked up again?"

"What about it? Think that's likely?"

"I moved on – well, I _thought_ I had – so why shouldn't she do the same?"

Gibbs shrugged. "Only one way to find out: talk to her. I know you, Tony – this'll eat at you until you find out one way or the other."

Tony nodded. He knew Gibbs was right; the problem was mustering up the guts to actually do it.

"You gonna help me or what?"

Snapping out of his thoughts, Tony put down his beer, picked up the nearby sanding tool and joined his boss by the boat.

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 **TBC**


	3. Celebration

**Divergence/Convergence**

 **Disclaimer:** All characters property of CBS, not mine, alas.

I have not as yet seen the season 13 finale as I live in the UK and it won't be airing for about 3 more weeks. However, I know the basics of it from friends who have seen it.

Sorry for the delay in updating; things have been a bit busy at my end.

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Chapter 3: Celebration

All too soon, Tony's last day under Gibbs came around. His flight was booked, he had confirmation of his new apartment in Tel Aviv and his car (the keys to both of which he would collect once he had arrived in Israel), his documents and affairs were in order, and he had handed over custody of his two goldfish to McGee (who had arched an eyebrow when told their names) and Delilah. He took his time parking his car for the last time in the agency garage and ambled towards the lift, memorising every last detail. Two other staff joined him in the lift but they were not people he knew so the exchange of pleasantries was limited to a head nod and a "Morning" from each.

When they arrived at the squad room level, Tony let the other two go first; he briefly closed his eyes as he savoured the _ding_ and the exit. _My last time walking into the bullpen from the elevator._

He lingered a little too long – the lift doors began sliding shut. He hastily stuck out his hand and the doors rebounded. At this time of morning, the room was quiet – the agents who had already arrived were in pre-coffee mode – and he stepped out of the lift, pausing to soak up the atmosphere. There was something calming about the squadroom this early.

Taking his time, he wandered over to the agency's Most Wanted wall and made a mental note of each face and name on it. Vance had informed him that there was a near-identical wall in the Tel Aviv office, but Tony suspected it didn't have the same pumpkin-orange background.

"Morning, DiNozzo," came a voice from behind Tony's left shoulder. The agent spun round to face his director, who offered a smile. "Taking it all in for the last time?" When Tony nodded, he smiled. "I remember doing the same thing my last day in San Diego."

"Doesn't feel quite real yet."

"Probably won't until you're in Tel Aviv. You all set?"

"I think so. Flight leaves Sunday. Figured I'd give myself some time to settle in before I start work."

"Good plan. My office, three o'clock, for the formal handover." And before Tony had a chance to reply, the director had gone.

For once, he was the first of his team to arrive – but clearly hadn't been the last to leave the previous night. A huge 'Good Luck!' banner hung above his place and there were balloons attached to each corner of his desk. A smaller banner across the front of the desk proclaimed 'Bon Voyage!' and there were streamers all over his area. The sight brought a smile to his face and he went over, depositing his bag in its usual place. "Man, I'm gonna miss this place."

"Can we save the sentimentality for later?" asked McGee, appearing next to him.

Tony narrowed his eyes at him. "It's too early for words like 'sentimentality', McDictionary," he informed the other agent, who would be taking over from him as Gibbs' second-in-command.

"Suck it up."

"So who's coming tonight?" They were going to their favourite bar for the farewell party; Tony knew McGee had booked the side-room for them, but he had not been privy to any more information than that.

"You, me, Bishop, Boss, Abby, Ducky, Palmer, Delilah, Lucy, O'Reilly, Martinez, Becky, Skinny Sam, Vertical Bill – why's he called that, by the way?"

"No idea."

"– and I think the director's planning to show at some point. A lot of other people are going to pop their heads in for a bit but those are the ones who are staying for a while."

"Will there be cake?"

McGee rolled his eyes. " _Yes_ , Tony, there will be cake. Abby's sorted a very special cake."

"A very special cake for a Very Special Agent?"

"Like it'd be anything else."

Tony grinned and was about to reply when his phone rang. "'Scuse me." He dug it out of his pocket and went round the corner behind the stairs. As he glanced at the screen he noticed the number began 972 – not a US one. He answered it cautiously. "Special Agent DiNozzo…"

"Boker tov, Tony," a heavily-accented, vaguely-familiar voice greeted him. "This is Adam. I, uh, I obtained your number from Director Elbaz."

"Adam?" Tony frowned, trying to place the name.

"Adam Eshel – you know, from Mossad."

Comprehension dawned, recognising the voice now. "Adam! Hey, man, how's it going?"

"I understand you are moving here."

"Yeah. This weekend. Today's my last day at the Navy Yard. What's up?"

"Do you have anyone to collect you from the airport?"

Tony shook his head automatically. "No. I figured I'd get a taxi at the airport."

"Would you like me to meet you? It will be a lot cheaper for you and taxi drivers in Tel Aviv can be…a little crazy. And it would be good to see you again."

"Uh…sure. Yeah, why not?"

"Then it is a plan. You arrive on Monday, yes?"

"How do you know all this?"

Adam chuckled. "I am Mossad."

"Good point. Do you need my flight details?"

"OS2258, arriving at thirteen twenty-four, correct?"

He had forgotten how well Mossad could obtain information; he found it somewhat unsettling. "Yeah, that's the one."

"Excellent. I shall see you on Monday. Shalom."

"Shalom, Adam." When the call ended, Tony saved the number to his phone. That was an interesting turn of events; he wasn't sure whether he should be suspicious or pleased. He decided that unless he received information that suggested the former, he would go with the latter. Adam had helped him in the past and it seemed like a genuine gesture of friendship.

Looking up at the big wall clock, he saw that it was now five to seven. Time to be ready for the day.

*13*13*13*13*13*13*13*13*13*13*13*13*

It was just before eight that evening when Tony, McGee and Delilah arrived at the bar. Delilah had driven them as she was on antibiotics and therefore not allowed to drink alcohol, so she didn't see any point in "the boys" (her wording) getting taxis. While McGee got her wheelchair out, Delilah fiddled with her phone (as far as Tony was concerned; in reality she was texting Abby to let her know that they had arrived) and Tony prepared himself for what was sure to be an emotional evening. Delilah transferred into her chair while Tony got out, locking the car behind them.

"You ready?" McGee inquired.

"As I'll ever be. Let's do this," replied Tony, pulling himself up to his full height as he followed the others in. For eight o'clock on a Friday night he was surprised at how empty the place was – but that was not necessarily a bad thing on this occasion. He was glad they had booked the side-room. Wait, why were the doors shut…?

McGee and Delilah looked at each other, together counted, "One, two, _three_ ," and then pulled open the doors.

A wave of cheers and hollers hit them. Tony blinked and then looked closer. Everyone in the room was dressed up, wearing party hats and waving. He barely had time to register it before something – which turned out to be Abby –flung itself into him. " _OhmygodI'mgonnamissyou_ SO DAMN MUCH!" she exclaimed, squeezing him tightly. When she released him, she seized his wrist and tugged him into the room.

" _Wow_ ," was the only response he could utter to the sight in front of him. There were various small banners adorning the walls, declaring 'Goodbye!', 'Good Luck!', 'We'll miss you!', 'Enjoy your new job!' and so on; streamers, baubles and other decorations; and in the middle of the opposite wall a huge, handmade-by-Abby banner proclaiming his name and 'Congrats on the job! Enjoy Israel!'

He grinned at the sight and looked around at all the people gathered there. Bishop stepped forward and reached up to put an orange party hat on his head; he rolled his eyes at her but grinned even more broadly anyway. Someone – Palmer – thrust a drink into his hand and Abby pulled him over to the big, throne-like chair that was underneath her banner, telling him to sit. He obeyed. Only now did he notice the Mistress of Ceremonies sash she wore, which explained a lot. To his left a sumptuous-looking buffet was laid out; on his right the wall had been turned into a photo display. He would peruse that later.

Right next to him, Abby let out a piercing whistle that promptly silenced the crowd. With the doors now closed, nearly all the noise from the main bar had been shut out. Abby stepped forward. "Now the main man, the guest of honour, has arrived, it is time, my friends, for The Speeches." She bowed and gestured to Vance, who nodded, an amused smile on his face, and got to his feet. Tony found himself feeling a little uncertain: was he expected to give a speech? He hadn't prepared anything…

"Thank you all for coming," began Vance. "I've known Agent DiNozzo for quite some time now and I have to say, it's never dull when he's around." This prompted a chuckle from everyone. "I'd be lying if I said it wasn't a challenge at times and he certainly has…creative ways of going about things. We've not always seen eye-to-eye on matters and there have been times when I've wanted to smack him like Gibbs does, but protocol forbids me." Again, people chuckled, and Tony's hand instinctively went to the back of his head. "But he's demonstrated time and again that he's a fine agent and an outstanding asset to NCIS. If I didn't completely trust him I wouldn't have offered him the job. So, Agent DiNozzo, I am one hundred percent confident in your ability to lead the Israel office. I'll see you in MTAC." He raised his glass towards Tony. "To Agent DiNozzo." The group echoed his words and obliged the toast. Tony felt himself turn a little pink from the compliments, something he knew Vance did not dish out liberally.

"Next!" Abby called.

Bishop emerged. "I've only known Tony for about two and a half years and I don't want to inflate his ego any more than it already is, but I've learned a lot – both about being an NCIS agent and about movies. I've learned a _lot_ about movies! But seriously, I've enjoyed working with him and I wish him all the best for the new job. She raised her glass; her toast was for "Good luck".

Ducky was next. "I have worked with Anthony for a long time, and like Director Vance, I have rarely had a dull moment. Perhaps on occasion I have relished a little _too_ much in 'grossing him out' in Autopsy, but it was never that much when you consider that his background prior to NCIS was in homicide. He is always ready with a movie reference and I've lost track of how many times he has compared an element of a crime scene to something he's seen in one of his movies.

"Yet underneath that joviality, the prank-playing, the larking about, is a man who is dedicated to his job, committed to solving cases and bringing about closure for those affected, with a deep sense of justice. We have been through many things and I have seen him change a great deal over the years, from the lighthearted, juvenile, overgrown frat boy – as Jethro put it – to the mature, caring and protective man he is today. Anthony, it has been a pleasure to work with you and watch you develop into who you are now, and I wish you every success in your new position. Thank you." He stepped back to much applause.

"Jimmy!" ordered Abby.

Palmer shuffled forwards. "I, uh, I just want to say that although Tony can be _incredibly_ childish and annoying at times, he's also been a great friend and I'm glad to have worked with him." He hastened back into his place, ears bright red.

McGee hurried forwards before Abby had a chance to summon him. "I've worked with Tony for over a decade now. At the start there was definitely some frat-style hazing, all of which, I would like it noted, was completely unwanted and unnecessary. I've lost count of how many stupid nicknames he's given me. That said, over the years we've been through a hell of a lot – we've lost close friends, fought really horrible bad guys, and I think the ultimate one has to be deliberately getting ourselves captured and held prisoner in a terrorist training camp in Somalia, all to avenge the death of someone who turned out to not be dead after all so it turned into a rescue mission. That's definitely the most extreme thing we've ever done.

"But whatever's happened, he's been there for me. Tony's basically the annoying older brother I never had and he's been a damn good friend to me. I'm gonna miss him a lot and I hope this new job is everything he wants it to be." He held up his glass. "To family."

When that toast was over, Abby tugged a reluctant Gibbs to the front and then stepped aside. Gibbs nodded at Tony. "Gonna keep this short. No idea how many headslaps I've meted out but I'm sure they were all deserved. Juvenile? Yeah, at times. Annoying? Absolutely. Quiet? Rarely. One of the best agents I've ever worked with? Without a question. You'll make a fantastic leader and I can't think of anyone better for the job. You've earned it, Tony." He stepped back, to much applause. By now Tony's face was bright red, taken aback at all the praise and kind words being heaped upon him.

"And now, the man himself!" announced Abby, pulling him to his feet, a vice-like grip around his wrist.

"Hey, I wasn't told I had to give a speech!" he protested.

"Tough. You do."

Knowing she wouldn't take no for an answer, he cleared his throat. It would be off-the-cuff, but he'd make it memorable. "I first met Gibbs when I was a homicide detective in Baltimore when our cases overlapped. I hauled him in thinking he was some crazy homeless guy and it turned out he was a federal agent with some agency I'd never heard of. Not long after that I ended up joining NCIS with him as my boss. No gentle easing-in like you might have gotten with someone else, but _bam!_ – straight in at the deep end.

"A little while later we worked a case that brought us into contact with a Secret Service agent named Kate Todd. Not sure what Gibbs did but it obviously worked. Then we got McGee. Sorry about the hazing – but you just made it so easy! We went through a lot together. And then Ari Haswari happened and we lost a real good friend. Yeah, we still miss her.

"That brought the exotic Mossad officer, Ziva David, into our world, Most of you guys remember her and I'm sure I don't need to tell you about her. We had eight years before she left. So many memories. I think McGee's right – the whole thing in Somalia was definitely our ultimate extreme adventure.

"Ziva arrived the same day Jenny Shepard took over as director. While she was in charge I got framed for murder – not her fault, she wasn't to know the jerk she'd hired turned out to have a personal vendetta against me – and made out to be dead by my car being blown up. Can't help noticing Kort still hasn't recompensed me for that. Then we lost Jenny and then-Assistant Director Leon Vance took over, Man, did I dislike you back then, sir – not now, certainly not now –" Vance arched an eyebrow at this but made no comment, "– and then I got sent off to be Agent Afloat for months. It felt like it would never end. Speaking of, how come McLandlubber's never had to do that?"

"Medical issue prohibit him from operating effectively or safely in the role," answered Vance diplomatically.

"He gets seasick," elaborated Tony with a slight smirk.

Bishop gave McGee a disbelieving look. "But you're a _Navy_ cop!"

"Don't go there," advised Palmer.

Face visibly burning, McGee scowled. "Thanks a lot, Tony."

"So we hauled Ziva out of the desert – _we_ did, not Mossad – and we dealt with some real bad guys. Remember when Harper Dearing tried to blow up the Navy Yard?

"It's been one hell of a ride. I work with some damn good people, some of whom are family to me. Boss, Duckman, Abs, Autopsy Gremlin, Elf Lord, Probette – it's been one hell of a ride and I wouldn't have missed it for the world. Well, except for getting pneumonic plague. That part _sucked_. But I shall take it all with me as I venture forth to pastures new." He turned to Gibbs and bowed. "The Padawan has become the Master. Thank you."

Deafening applause broke out as Tony raised his glass. "To the future of the Naval Criminal Investigative Service."

His colleagues obliged with the toast and Tony, beaming, turned to Abby. "How was that for impromptu?"

She grinned. "Nicely done, Tony. Now c'mon, let's get some drinking done! Oh, no, wait, wait, WAIT, everyone! The cake! We have to cut the cake!" She dragged Tony off to the end of the buffet table, which contained no cake.

Tony gave her a confused look. "I hate to break it to you, Abby, but there's no ca–"

"Yes there is!" countered McGee from behind him.

Tony spun round to see McGee and Delilah, the latter of whom bore a giant pumpkin-orange sheet cake on her lap. 'GOODBYE TONY!" was written on it in black, the same font as the agency's, with a large, full-colour agency shield underneath it, an agent badge in gold icing on either side of the seal.

Tony stared at it, mouth open. "This is… Oh man. This is amazing!" He received broad smiles and grins from all his teammates and colleagues, and felt his eyes sting. Seriously? He was going to cry now? But he blinked away the tears and watched as McGee, Delilah and Abby put the cake on the table next to the cake knife before picking it up and preparing to cut into it.

"You've gotta pose for photos first!" Abby instructed him. "Don't cut it until I say you can!"

"Yes, ma'am!" He obligingly grinned as people took photos until Abby declared that it was time to cut the cake and then he gleefully sank the knife into it, to much applause. "Do I have to cut it into all the slices?"

"I'll do that," Abby told him. "Go, socialise."

He was more than happy to relinquish the knife to her and headed into the crowd to talk to the many well-wishers who were present. Everyone wanted a word with him and he was quite touched that so many had attended. A number had even bought him gifts.

As the evening wore on, people gradually departed (with cake; Abby made sure of that) until it was just Tony, McGee, Delilah, Abby and Bishop. At midnight, the barman put his head into the room. "Guys, we're about to close up, so if you could be quick and get the food cleared I'd appreciate it."

"Oh. Sure!" replied Abby, and he disappeared after giving her the thumbs-up. She surveyed the room: there wasn't much to tidy as almost all the food and cake had been eaten. "You guys, take what you want and I'll drop the rest off with Palmer."

It did not take them long to sort out, and then long hugs were exchanged with promises to email a lot, before Abby and Bishop got a taxi and the remaining three got into Delilah's car. They dropped Tony off at his and McGee promised to be on time to take Tony to Dulles airport on Sunday.

Once inside, exhausted, Tony went straight to bed.

*13*13*13*13*13*13*13*13*13*13*13*13*

 **TBC**


	4. Transfer

**Divergence/Convergence**

 **Disclaimer:** All characters property of CBS, not mine, alas.

Apologies for the delay. Two consecutive weekends of larp means my body is really really paying for it. I do intend to be quicker with updating for the rest of this fic! Season 13 finale is tomorrow here in the UK.

*13*13*13*13*13*13*13*13*13*13*13*13*

Chapter 4: Transfer

The farewell dinner Tony had with his father on Saturday night went surprisingly well. Senior was quite tearful – probably due to the large quantity of alcohol he had been consuming – and Tony felt a little guilty for, to all intents and purposes, abandoning him in his twilight years. However, Senior assured him that he had made the right decision, that he should seize this role with both hands and do the DiNozzo name proud. "And for God's sake find that girl of yours!" he ordered.

McGee arrived half an hour early on Sunday. Tony was keeping his apartment but renting it out with McGee in charge of it Stateside, and the younger agent would be dealing with the removals company who were putting his furniture into storage (the agency's apartment in Tel Aviv was fully-furnished), before they loaded the three large suitcases into McGee's car. Tony stood on the pavement and looked up at the building. "I'm gonna miss this place. It was home for a long time."

McGee stood beside him. "I know what you mean. But I'm sure it won't take you long to settle into your new place."

"I guess." Tony turned towards the car and handed the apartment keys to McGee. "C'mon, let's go."

The drive to the airport was quiet, neither knowing what to say. In many ways they were close; things would certainly be different from now on. At the airport the fraternal hug between them lasted a long time, neither wanting to make the move to break it, which would symbolise that change.

McGee was the one to break it and he stepped back. "So, this is it."

"Yeah."

"Let me know you've landed OK."

Tony nodded. "Of course I will. Thanks for driving me." He hesitated. "I'm gonna miss you, Tim."

"I'll miss you, too. And keep in touch – you know what Abby'll be like if you don't email at least twice a day."

Tony laughed, which dispelled some of the tension. "Oh yeah, I do. I'll talk to you soon."

"Goodbye, Tony."

"Goodbye, McSenior Field Agent."

They hugged again, neither admitting the tears in their eyes; Tony broke the embrace this time, nodded at McGee, took hold of the baggage trolley, and turned and walked into the airport, not looking back. He knew that if he did, he would start crying and he did _not_ want to give McGee that ammo.

He was actually doing this; it was real. In fifteen hours he would be in Tel Aviv, via Vienna, starting a new life.

*13*13*13*13*13*13*13*13*13*13*13*13*

The flight was smooth and they landed half an hour early. Tony had slept for some of it, though not well, and spent the rest of it watching and critiquing the in-flight movies with the man next to him, who turned out to be a professor in film at Oregon State who was on his way to a Middle-Eastern Film conference in Tel Aviv. Intrigued by this, Tony exchanged contact details with him, with a view to broadening his knowledge and getting a better understanding of the academic and technical aspects of film.

After clearing customs and security, he fished his phone out of his bag and texted McGee: _Good flight, landed early. Tell Abby she can stop worrying now._ Around him people were hurrying, rushing, busy on their phones; he wondered how many of them were like him, starting a new life in a foreign country. Probably not many.

He allowed himself the luxury of people-watching as he made his way to the baggage carousel, seizing a baggage trolley the moment one became available and waiting for his suitcases to appear. Holidaymakers, religious pilgrims, businessmen and women, the professor from the plane (he and Tony waved at each other) passed through his line of sight.

His three cases came around the carousel close together and Tony hauled them onto the trolley; once he had done so he texted Adam: _Got my bags, see you in a minute._ Taking a deep breath, he gripped the trolley and pushed it towards the exit. He emerged into a crowd of people, holding signs in English, Hebrew, Arabic, Russian, Spanish, French and a few other languages he didn't recognise; hopefully he would be able to locate Adam in the sea of faces.

"Tony!" A hand waved.

Turning to his right, he spotted Adam and waved back, breathing a sigh of relief as he pushed the trolley towards the Mossad officer. "Adam! Wasn't sure I'd find you."

"It _is_ a little busy," agreed Adam, surprising the NCIS agent by pulling him into a bear hug. "How was your flight?" He released him.

"It was good. Got to see The Producers, made a new friend – film professor, going to a conference. Slept a while, although you never _properly_ sleep on a plane. Unless you're Gibbs. I'm pretty sure he could sleep through a magnitude ten earthquake."

"I expect he could. Are you ready to go?"

Tony nodded. "Let's hit the road."

"This way." Adam took control of the trolley and steered it towards the exit, expertly carving a path between people, with Tony close behind.

As they stepped out of the air-conditioned terminal, the heat hit. Hard. Tony had forgotten this aspect – although it wasn't the unbearable temperatures it would reach at the height of summer, May in Israel was considerably warmer than May in Washington DC. And he was still dressed for DC temperatures. "Your car's got air-con, right?"

Adam chuckled. "Of course."

"What's the actual plan? I'm assuming there's a plan?"

"I take you to get everything dealt with for your apartment, we go there and put your belongings in it and then I take you to mine for dinner. I would like to introduce you to some friends of mine to help you get to know a few people. Then tomorrow I will take you to collect your car and give you a tour of a few places so you can get your bearings a little. Also, you need an Israeli sim card and number."

"Sounds good to me," replied Tony, following Adam to the car, wherever that was.

It was not far, and soon they had put Tony's cases in it and were on the road. NCIS had arranged for Tony to collect his apartment key from the US embassy so they went there first; he then gave his new address to Adam and they drove off.

Whoever had decorated the apartment and furnished it clearly had taste: everything was colour-coded, definitely Israeli-style but with distinctly American influences. Tony was pleased to see the large, wall-mounted TV and comfortable-looking sofa. He went into the kitchen area, glad to see that it was fully-equipped. The bedroom was large, with a king-size bed all made up and ready; part of Tony wanted to collapse onto it that very moment, after his long, overnight flight. He stopped himself, instead putting one suitcase on the bed and another by the chest of drawers, next to which Adam placed the third. "Mind if I take a shower? Long flight packed onto a tube of metal with a whole load of people getting all hot and sweaty? Ugh." He pulled a face.

"No problem," Adam assured him. "I will wait in the lounge." He left the room to allow Tony the privacy of revelling in a hot, clean shower.

*13*13*13*13*13*13*13*13*13*13*13*13*

It did not take long to get to Adam's, a smart three-bedroom apartment on the edge of Tel Aviv that he shared with one of his sisters, who was an ICU doctor and was working the night shift at the moment so would not be present at the dinner.

On the journey, Tony had a thought and he voiced it. "Do you know what Malachi Ben-Gidon's up to these days?"

Adam snorted. " _Everyone_ in Mossad knows what he is up to these days. He is starting from the bottom and is currently on junior duties."

Surprised by this, Tony blinked and raised his eyebrows. "Who'd he upset? What did he do?"

"Let a protection detail give him the, uh…the…slip, is that the term?"

Tony nodded. "That's pretty harsh."

Adam scowled. "His protection gave him the slip and got all the way to Washington before getting killed by a hired mercenary three years ago."

"He was on Eli David?"

Adam's scowl deepened. "Yes. He is lucky he was not terminated."

Nodding again, Tony let out a low whistle. "I bet. Why wasn't he?"

"Director Elbaz felt it would be more effective a message if other officers had a constant visual reminder of errors. Besides, it is far more humiliating to be returned to the bottom of the pile than simply terminated and forgotten about."

"Can't say I feel sorry for him."

The conversation turned to other topics as they made their way to Adam's and then parked. Tony followed Adam into the apartment building, listening as the other man warned him about the perils of driving in Tel Aviv. The apartment was on the second floor and after so long travelling, Tony was thankful for the presence and use of the lift. As they went down the hall to the apartment, he asked who else was attending; Adam told him that three were work friends and the other two were a married couple whom he had known since high school. They were due to arrive at five; it was four o'clock now.

Without a sound the door opened into the apartment hallway, with a dark wooden floor and pale green walls with delicate curving lines of dark brown that matched the floor. When Tony examined it more closely he realised that the lines were tree branches, some with small blossoms emanating from them, and he commented on the detail.

"Devorah likes to paint," explained Adam. "The ICU is very hard on her mentally; painting helps to ground and calm her." He pointed down the hall. "Make yourself comfortable in the lounge."

Tony did as instructed and made his way to the end and stepped into the living room, which had pale yellow walls and a partially-complete mural; of what, he could not determine. His eyes fell on a woman reading on the couch, head bowed over the book and her back to him. "Hi – uh, shalom," said Tony by way of announcing his presence.

Closing the book and putting it aside, the woman rose from the couch and turned to face him. "Hello, Tony," she replied, face unreadable.

The familiar voice hit him like a deluge of icy water and he found himself rooted to the spot. He blinked rapidly several times. "Uh…Hey. Uh…What are you doing here?" His mouth was dry and his heart began pounding. Was this a dream? Was he hallucinating? Or was it really her?

"Adam invited me. He told me about your new job."

Tony glanced back towards the hall. "If he _invited_ you, I, uh, I guess you two aren't…?"

"Seeing each other? No."

He felt some of the tension leave him. "So, uh, how have you been?"

She shrugged, her dark eyes sad. "I have been OK."

"You cut your hair." He mentally kicked himself for making such an inane comment.

"You do not like it?"

"It looks nice. I'm just not used to it being so short."

"I felt like a change."

He nodded, shifting awkwardly from foot to foot. "I guess I don't know what to say. It's been almost three years."

"I know." Her voice cracked a little and she looked down at the floor. "If you would rather I left –"

"No. Please don't. You've done that too many times."

For once, he found himself unable to read her beyond the almost painful tension radiating from her. "I've missed you."

She nodded, dropping her eyes to the floor as she whispered, "Me too," with a faint crack in her voice.

There were so many things he wanted to say to her, to ask her; they shouted simultaneously at him, drowning each other out. Eventually one of the questions escaped and before he could think about it, he blurted out: "You seeing anyone?" Immediately, he winced. Of all the things he could have asked… "I'm sorry, I don't know why I said that."

She lifted her eyes and squinted at him as she cocked her head to one side. "No, I am not seeing anyone."

That declaration was all he needed and heclosed the five-foot gap between them in two strides, put his hand behind her head and pulled her into a long, deep kiss. He felt her respond and he slipped his other hand round her waist into the small of her back.

Ziva was the one to break away and she brought her hand up to caress his cheek, eyes searching his face. "I take it you are not seeing anyone either?" There was a slight teasing note in her voice.

Tony shook his head and when he spoke he was surprised to hear a small waver in his voice. "Tried. Didn't work out. Realised I was trying to make myself settle for someone because I didn't have my soulmate."

She offered him a faint smile. "Still think they are a band from the Seventies?"

 _Of course she remembers that conversation._ "Fine, point taken."

She pulled away and folded her hands together in front of her. "Why did you come? What are you here? And do not say that Vance sent you without discussion because we both know that is not true."

"This conversation sounds familiar – minus being shot full of truth serum, which is a big plus." He saw her tense and avert her eyes, and realised he needed to be serious, to remove any suggestion of a joke from this conversation. It was too important; he made sure his face reflected that. "You remember I once said I couldn't live without you?"

She bit her lip and raised her eyes to his – apprehensive, scared. "How could I forget?"

"I tried. I couldn't. I don't want to. Yeah, I took the job because it's a chance to actually have some sort of career, to have my own team – which isn't something I thought I'd get until Gibbs retired, not after I turned down Rota. But I also took it because I thought I might have a chance to find you again. I'll admit, I figured it would be a lot harder than just coming to dinner at Adam's the day I arrived. Guess I was wrong."

"Adam has his ways."

"Yeah." He shifted form one foot to the other. "So, uh, where do we go from here?"

"That depends. What do you want, Tony? Between us."

"Was I in any way unclear just now?" He really hoped she wasn't going to be infuriating.

She shook her head firmly. "You were the very opposite of unclear." She raised her eyes to meet his and they laid bare her emotions and thoughts in the same way they always had done. "If it is a quick fling, then no, you cannot have it. I have had enough of those and I do not want to be just another notch on your bedpost."

He shook his head. "Nothing like that. I don't do that anymore – I'm not that Tony. I don't want a quick fling either. I've had almost three years without you and I never want anything like that again. I want a proper relationship, something long and serious, with the woman I now know is my soulmate. I'm in this for the long haul, Ziva. No one-night stands, no quick flings, no silly games. Just you and me, serious, long-term and committed." He watched her take this in and contemplate it, holding his breath while he did so in anticipation (and no small amount of fear) of her response.

After a long period of silence, Ziva nodded and met his eyes. "Yes, Tony, I am willing to try." She was smiling, although there was hesitation in her face, fear of being hurt again.

Tony visibly relaxed and he reached out to her, gently caressing her cheek. "So am I."

She stepped forwards and slipped her arms around him, pressing herself close to his body and resting her head on his shoulder, allowing herself to relax as he wrapped his arms around her.

Neither spoke as they stood there soaking up each other's presence. Tony rested his head on hers, calm and content, a strong feeling of peace running through his body.

Eventually footsteps on the wooden floor approached and they broke apart like guilty teenagers just as Adam stepped into the room. His eyes fell upon first Tony, then Ziva, then their subconsciously-entwined hands. He let out one of his deep chuckles. "I see you two did not need much time."

Both blushed. "I, uh…" began Tony, at the same time Ziva stammered out, "He, uh…he…"

"Relax! This is what I hoped for – although I did expect more shouting and arguing," he replied, his eyes sparkling and a grin breaking out on his face.

"You set us up?" spluttered Ziva in indignation, the first to find their voice. She narrowed her eyes at Adam and hissed, "Paperclip!"

Adam arched an eyebrow. "Your father taught me the fourteen ways also; that threat is redundant."

Tony looked at Ziva. "You told me you knew _eighteen_ ways…"

She smirked. "I devised the other four myself."

Adam rolled his eyes. "I find that entirely believable." He glanced at his watch. "We do not have much time before the others arrive. Shall I leave you two to catch up or can I hold you, Ziva, to your promise to help get everything ready?"

"I said I would help so I will," replied Ziva. "What about Tony?"

"I can help," offered Tony, conscious of the fact that Ziva's hand was still in his.

"You have just flown how many thousands of miles? No, I will not hear of it. Make yourself comfortable," Adam told him, pointing towards the sofa.

"I want to help."

"Then help me sort the dining room out," said Ziva. "You can tell me all the news from NCIS."

"Sure, I can do that."

Then let us get on with it," suggested Adam.

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 **TBC**


	5. Reconnection

**Divergence/Convergence**

 **Disclaimer:** All characters property of CBS, not mine, alas.

Thank you for your reviews!

For the reviewer who asked about the season 13 finale in the UK, it's on Fox at 9pm tomorrow (Friday 10th June). Channel 157 on Virgin; don't know about other providers' channel numbers.

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Chapter 5: Reconnection

Tony enjoyed the dinner; Adam was an excellent cook and his friends were decent people, all of whom spoke very good English. Kevuda, the wife in the couple, offered to give Tony private Hebrew lessons and he gratefully accepted (he was certain Ziva's eyes lit up at that) – she was a language teacher and regularly gave crash courses to English-speaking Jews making their aliyah.

One by one the guests left and Tony found himself in the apartment with just Adam and Ziva. Glancing at the clock, Adam noted that it had gone nine o'clock and that he needed to get to bed soon.

"How do I get back to my apartment?" asked Tony, aware that the wine Adam had consumed would probably put him over every drink-drive limit in the world.

"I can drive you," offered Ziva, who had not had more than a sip of the wine because it was one she disliked.

Tony paled; Adam snickered when he saw and patted Tony on the shoulder. "Or you could stay here and I will drive you tomorrow."

Ziva glared at both of them, though her primary target was Adam; her reaction served only to amuse the Mossad officer. Torn, Tony considered his two options. Adam's offer was extremely tempting, but as he had work the next morning it would entail not enough sleep for Tony. Yet Tony had had more than his fair share of Ziva's driving and after over two years of being back in Israel, he doubted it had improved – and had probably deteriorated. He closed his eyes and internally winced: he needed many hours of undisturbed sleep, which left him with only one option. How bad could it be? He opened his eyes and turned to Ziva. "Fine. You can drive me."

Ziva smiled. "Then I will put my shoes on." She headed into the hall, leaving Adam and Tony together in the living room.

Adam arched an eyebrow and leaned in close to Tony, his voice low. "You are a brave man, Agent DiNozzo."

"Well, it was good knowing you," replied Tony, offering a wry grin.

Chuckling, Adam patted his shoulder. "I hope you have had a good time and I apologise for the way I set you two up, but it seemed the easiest way of doing things."

Unconvinced, Tony made a noncommittal noise. "I'll admit I wasn't expecting it. Was she in on it?"

"Only once she arrived. Devorah let her in while I was collecting you and then let slip, but she has in the past said that she hoped to see you again." He shrugged. "She has missed you."

Tony put his hand on Adam's shoulder and met the Israeli man's eyes. "Thank you. For everything – including her."

"You are a friend; I am happy to help. On that subject, I will pick you up at one o'clock tomorrow after I finish work."

"See you tomorrow." Tony shook Adam's hand and went into the hall to put on his shoes and leave. He smiled at Ziva, still a little stunned that she was here, that they had kissed and now were tentatively at the start of a relationship that, if he was honest with himself, had been hanging in stasis for years, and stunned that Adam had set them up like this.

She already had her shoes on and was standing by the front door; when he smiled at her, she returned it with a small, nervous one. She waited for him to put his shoes on and then jingled her keys in her hand. "Shall we?"

 _Clearly I have a death wish_. He straightened up from his shoes, his movement a little stiff. _Man, are the effects of that flight starting to hit._ "Sure."

Ziva wrapped her fingers around the door handle and called out, "Laila tov, Adam!"

"Oh, yeah, laila tov!" added Tony, determined to speak Hebrew as much as possible. He followed Ziva out of the apartment and down to her car on the street. It amused him that she had another Mini.

"You look exhausted, Tony," she observed as she unlocked the car.

"Jetlag's starting to hit," he confirmed, getting into the car. "I'm supposed to call Senior but I might have to leave it till tomorrow."

Ziva settled into her seat and closed her door. "How did he take the move?"

"Better than I expected, actually. A lot better." He secured his seatbelt and mentally prepared himself for what he knew was coming.

"I am glad." She turned the key in the ignition and jerked out onto the road.

 _I definitely haven't missed this_ , Tony thought as the force of her rapid acceleration pressed his body into the seat. "How did they ever give you a licence?"

"There is a difference between learning to pass a test and learning to drive," Ziva informed him, checking the road before pulling out into the traffic.

"Of course there is," he muttered.

"Trust me, you did not want to be a passenger when my uncle was driving."

"You mean there are people worse than you?" He couldn't help it, the teasing flowing naturally, just like it used to. "Watch the road!" he added in panic when her glare lingered on him.

They spent the rest of the drive in a comfortable near-silence; Ziva paid attention to the directions her phone barked out in Hebrew, only missing three turnings, and Tony fought the urge to sleep from the now-oppressive jetlag – not as difficult as he had thought due to the driving style of the woman behind the wheel. He was relieved when the car stopped outside his building and Ziva turned off the engine.

"This is the place?" asked Ziva, gesturing to the building. When Tony nodded, she visibly relaxed. "I am not used to the sat-nav thing on my cell. It does not give you enough warning." She jabbed her finger at the offending device, glaring at it.

"I noticed." He undid his seatbelt and turned to face her. "Want to come in? Or do you have somewhere to be?"

She shook her head. "Nowhere to be." She remained where she was, tense and alert, as Tony got out of the car.

"What's up?" His hand rested on the still-open passenger door as he bent down and peered into the car.

Ziva shook herself, then undid her seatbelt. "I don't know. I am not sure what to do or think. Things have changed suddenly and there is just so much to process."

"Rain check?"

Frowning, she squinted up through the car window. "It is completely dry, Tony."

He snickered. "Man, I've missed your mix-ups. Rain check? As in, do this some other time?"

She shook her head and undid her seatbelt. "No rain check; I will come up."

Smiling, he closed the car door and fished out his keys while he waited for her to join him, holding out his arm for her to slip her hand through, which she did. He raised his eyebrows when she rested her head on his upper arm, but decided that silence was the best option. _I could definitely get used to this._

Once inside the apartment, he let her wander through it while he shut the door. "What do you think?"

"I am impressed," she replied from the kitchen. "Have you brought all your movies?"

He followed her voice. "Just a few in my suitcase. I'm having a lot of them shipped over. I've got to check whether the DVD player is multi-region or if I need to get one."

"Movie nights – that sounds familiar." Her expression was a mix of wistful and nostalgic.

"We could start doing that again," he suggested, hoping she would agree.

She nodded slowly. "Yes. Yes, I would like that." She turned away from him and began rummaging through the cupboards. "Do you have any tea?"

He stared at her, open-mouthed. He'd only moved in a mere few hours ago and she was already acting like she had been there a hundred times. "I, uh… I have no idea; I've spent less than an hour here. Is there anything even _in_ there?"

"Aha!" She held a box aloft as though it were a trophy. "You have… Let me see…four, five, six, _shiva_ varieties of tea."

"Shiva? That's…seven?"

She turned around, one of her warm smiles on her face. "Very good, Tony. Yes, you have tea. Lots of it." She set about preparing it while he watched, a little stunned at her bolshiness. "Do you want anything?"

"I'm good." He decided to familiarise himself with the contents of the kitchen while they waited for the kettle to boil, and found crockery and cutlery (nothing fancy, but perfectly adequate), a variety of utensils, pots and pans, and some cereal, porridge, milk sugar and three kinds of coffee. "Guess I'll need to go grocery shopping tomorrow."

"Yes, you do. You cannot live on just takeout."

"Wanna bet?" Her arched eyebrow silenced anything else he was thinking of saying, so he got himself a glass of water and went over to the sofa, which was in the living-room area of the open-plan layout, waiting for Ziva to finish.

When she had made her tea, she joined him on the sofa, sitting at the opposite end and wrapping her hands around the mug. They sat in companionable silence for several minutes; Tony regarded her surreptitiously and she focused on her tea.

Eventually he decided to break the silence. "So where do we go from here? Us, I mean."

"You were serious earlier?"

He reached out and put one hand over hers. "Never been more serious." He meant it, too, and hoped she realised that.

She took a deep breath and met his eyes. "I am willing to try but I do not want to rush things."

"I can understand that."

"Thank you." She smiled in amusement as he attempted – and failed – to stifle a yawn. "Perhaps for now, though, you should get some sleep? You are clearly exhausted and tomorrow will be busy."

He wanted to disagree and tell her that he was fine, but there was no way she would buy it, so he reluctantly nodded. "Yeah, I guess you're right. What are you up to tomorrow?"

"Classes ten until three, and then I would like to spend an hour or two in the library." Earlier, she had told him that she had taken the opportunity to finally go to university – she had gone straight from school into the IDF and straight from there into Mossad, and then to NCIS, so she had never had the chance before now.

"Wanna grab dinner after? My treat. I'll even pick you up."

She was quiet for a moment while she considered his offer, then nodded. "Yes, that would be nice. Shall I text you when I have finished at the library?"

"I like your thinking, David." He yawned and rubbed his eyes. "I'm gonna have to kick you out now, though – a guy as good-looking as me needs his beauty sleep and these looks don't keep themselves."

She snorted and threw a cushion at him before writing out her mobile phone number on some paper and handing it to him. "Text me when you have your new phone."

He took the paper from her and escorted her to the door; overwhelmed with the urge to kiss her, he did so, enjoying the brief, tender moment before she left. When he shut the door, he yawned again. "Time for bed," he announced to the hallway, heading for his bedroom. Sleep was the only thing he cared about now and it was not long before he sank into the wonderful embrace of the bed.

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Tony slept for twelve hours solid, exhausted from the journey and from what he couldn't decide was one long day or two days blended together. Either way, he awoke at eleven o'clock on Tuesday greatly refreshed and somewhat adjusted to the new times zone. He had a leisurely breakfast and a quick shower and, seeing that he had around forty minutes until Adam was due to pick him up, began the process of unpacking.

At one o'clock exactly, Adam rang the bell; Tony grabbed his things and headed out.

"How are you today?" inquired Adam as Tony checked the door was locked.

"Way better. What's the plan?"

"We collect your work phone and then I will take you to collect your car. Do you have the paperwork?"

"Triple-checked."

"Then I will leave you to do whatever you want. You need food?"

"Yeah. Anywhere you recommend? I don't really know anything about supermarkets or anything here."

Adam unlocked his car. "Then I will point some out to you. What about banks?"

"Gonna look through the stuff you gave me yesterday and get it sorted tomorrow."

"And the rest of today?"

Tony offered him a bashful smile. "Pick Ziva up from the campus library, then who knows?"

"I see." Turning the key in the ignition, Adam kept a neutral expression, but there was, Tony thought, a faint hint of satisfaction.

"It did not take long for Tony to collect his new work phone and even before he left the NCIS office he had saved Ziva's number into it and texted her so that she had his. Back in Adam's car, Adam entered his and Tony gave him a missed call. "I wonder if I'll ever learn my new number," he mused, doing up his seatbelt.

"Sooner than you think," replied Adam sagely.

Then it was on to collect the car, from a garage that NCIS had an arrangement with. Tony was a little disappointed that it was a "boringly functional" (as he quietly complained to Adam) Ford Focus, but he was visibly relieved to have his own ride. "And after all," he said, "I can always buy myself a decent car once I've been here a while, or arrange to have mine shipped over."

"Precisely. Now, I will leave you to do your grocery shop. You have the map I drew?"

Tony held it up.

"Then I shall perhaps see you at the weekend?"

"Sounds good to me." Tony returned the hug and then watched the Mossad officer leave before heading to his own car, jingling the keys as he went. Having an apartment in which he had now slept and put out some of his possessions, a local phone and a car, the move now felt much more real and permanent, it was just after three o'clock, so he decided to head to the supermarket and then home where he would play around with his phone so it was set up just how he wanted it.

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At five o'clock, Ziva called to say that she was just finishing at the library; Tony immediately set out to pick her up, grinning like an idiot at the prospect of seeing and spending time with her. He did not have long to wait after he texted her to let her know his precise location and she appeared with a pile of thick, heavily books in her arms, some in English and some in Hebrew, which she deposited on the back seat of the car. "I have an essay due in on Monday," she explained as she got into the passenger seat beside him. "Do we have a plan for dinner?"

"I'm cooking. DiNozzo family special spaghetti."

She secured her seatbelt and leaned back. "That does sound good."

He smiled as he turned the engine on and drove off. "The DVD player's multi-regional so we can watch something with dinner if you like."

"Perfect."

During the journey, they chatted about a variety of things and they arrived at Tony's surprisingly quickly, not getting lost once. At the apartment, Tony immediately went into the kitchen, leaving Ziva to her own devices – university work – while he prepared dinner. He enjoyed being able to cook for her again and hoped this would be the beginning of something long-term; there was something cosy and wonderfully domestic about the scene. It certainly seemed to be something long-term and he was keen to do all he could to make it work. He couldn't stand the thought of being without her again.

Dinner and the movie – the newest Bond, which she had not seen – went very well and though they did not speak much, it was comfortable. Once they had finished eating, they put their plates and trays aside and Ziva snuggled into him on the sofa, his arm around her. He felt thoroughly relaxed, enjoying every aspect of the evening.

When the movie's end credits rolled, Ziva sat up and tucked a wayward lock of hair behind her ear. "Thank you for a lovely evening, Tony."

Tony immediately tensed, anticipating the _but_ that was sure to follow. "You've got to go?"

She nodded, her face sad as she stood up. "You saw all the books I have to work through, yes? The ones in the hall?"

"Uh-huh." There were three.

"I need to have finished with them by tomorrow – only the twenty-four-hour-loan ones were available."

He visibly winced. "That sucks. Are you gonna manage it?"

"Yes. But I need to spend two hours with them before I can go to bed."

He thought back to his own university days. "You pulled an all-nighter yet?"

She let out her familiar scornful "Hah!" and shook her head. "Do you honestly think I am so disorganised? Now, _you_ on the other foot –"

"Hand," he corrected, earning a glare for his troubles. "And yeah, I may have pulled a few. I bet McGee did, too."

She nodded. "That is because he is a perfectionist and will have spent a lot of that time making tiny little adjustments that nobody would have noticed and that would have made no difference to his final grade if he had just left them." She shifted her weight from one foot to the other. "I must go. Can I see you on Friday?"

His face fell. "Not before? That's three whole days away!"

"I have to study."

Knowing she was right, he sighed and nodded. "You'll call?"

"Of course." She went into the hall and put her shoes on; Tony watched her closely, committing everything to memory, not wanting to lose a single precious moment.

When her shoes were on she stood up and took his hand in one of hers while her other hand gently caressed his cheek and her dark eyes searched his face. He leaned into her touch and then dropped his head, capturing her in a long, tender kiss that she returned. Eventually they broke apart, smiling softly at each other.

He needed to say it, before she left. "I love you, Ziva."

She nodded. "I know. I hope you will forgive me for not saying it in return just yet; I need some more time to get things right in my mind. There is still so much…"

He squeezed her hand. "Take all the time you need."

"Thank you," she murmured. I will see you on Friday." And then she was gone, the door shut behind her and leaving Tony alone to ponder things.

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 **TBC**


	6. First Day

**Divergence/Convergence**

 **Disclaimer:** All characters property of CBS, not mine, alas.

Final chapter. I know some of you were hoping for much more but I want to end it at this point because the transition from old life to new was the storyline. I wanted to show Tony's divergence from his old life and colleagues, from being in a rut, to converging with an exciting future and the love of his life. I may in future do a sequel but I'm still working on the Aftermath sequel (yes, 4 years later; I intend to get that finished). Your support, reviews, etc. are really appreciated.

I've now seen the season finale and without giving away too much, I'd just like to say that this household is firmly in the "No body, not dead" camp. While it's likely that this character probably is dead and my husband has teased me about being in denial, I'm a little sceptical without definitive proof. I'm sure there'll be a fic along those lines from me soon enough, once I've seen "Family First" again!

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Chapter 6: First Day

Hardly any time seemed to have passed before Monday morning rolled around and Tony's first alarm blared from beside his bed. Without emerging from under the light covers, he stuck an arm out and slapped haphazardly at things on his bedside table until he made contact with his target and silenced it. Sunlight was already streaming into the room – he had failed to lower the blinds the previous night and had not properly closed the curtains – and he let out a groan. Two more hours minimum would have been ideal, but they weren't an option so he rolled out of bed and stumbled to the shower. Today was his first day in his new job and he did _not_ want to be late.

Before long he had showered, dressed and eaten breakfast; grabbing his keys, ID, weapon and a few other things he thought he might need, he set off for the offices of Israel's NCIS office. The traffic was light, for which he was grateful, and he soon found himself at work with half an hour to spare. He felt a little thrill run through his body as he spied his own personal parking space, a sign on the wall above it with his name on it. That was definitely something he could get used to having. There were two other cars in the small garage and he wondered who they belonged to.

After turning off the engine, he sat in the car for a minute, mentally preparing himself for the new job and new people. And maybe perhaps savouring having his very own marked parking space. There would be some serious gloating to McGee about that.

The time caught his eye, snapping him out of his reverie; he checked his hair and face in the visor mirror and exited the car, as smoothly and suavely as James Bond. Nobody was around to notice, but it didn't bother him: he was At One with Bond. He retrieved his bag from the footwell of the passenger seat, locked the car and headed to the lift that would take him above ground to the office. When the automatic doors opened he stepped into a small foyer with pale blue walls and dark blue lino, the NCIS logo on the wall adjacent to a reception desk, behind which sat a man of around Tony's age. The man straightened in his seat the moment he saw Tony. "ID, please." His tone was warm but brisk, an East Coast accent clear.

Tony had anticipated this request so he showed his badge immediately. "I'm the new head agent. Tony DiNozzo."

The man examined the ID and nodded in satisfaction. "So you are." He pointed to a set of double doors to his left. "I'll buzz you through, Agent DiNozzo."

"Thanks." Tony waited for the buzzer and then pushed the doors open, striding through. The corridor was windowless but short; he turned a corner and went through another set of doors, into a room about a third of the size of the squadroom in DC. The walls were an identical shade of pumpkin orange – the agency really had a thing about that colour – and in front of him was the Most Wanted wall with the same faces staring back at him.

One man, who looked to be in his mid-thirties and Middle Eastern, raised his head as Tony stepped into the room and smiled. "You must be the new guy," he said, voice heavily-accented, similar to Ziva and Adam's, getting to his feet and moving towards Tony.

"And you must be Benjamin Gavriel, Shin Bet Liaison Officer," replied Tony, holding out his hand.

"You have done your homework. Please call me Ben." He accepted the hand.

"Need to know who's working for me."

"But of course. Alice and Ryan will be here later – they have gone to obtain the recording from the break-in on Saturday. You know about that?"

"Yeah, Vance emailed me about it, told me not to come in for it." Alice and Ryan, Tony knew, were Special Agents Alice Jessop and Probationary Agent Ryan Carpenter. "Where's my desk?"

Ben gestured to him to follow, so Tony did, and led him past the two blocks of desks to an area with a larger desk, three computers and a big board. "You should have everything you need here. I shall leave you to settle." He strode back to his desk and computers.

Putting down his bag, Tony got behind his desk and sat down on the very comfortable chair – not quite as fancy as the Director's, but definitely more luxurious than the standard-issue ones he has spent the last fifteen years sitting in. On the desk were three files – the current cases. Though Tony knew of each, Vance's email had not gone into detail so he read through the files to get himself up to speed before his agents arrived.

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By the time six o'clock came round, Tony had met everyone and felt thoroughly settled in. Ben was there to ensure NCIS stayed within its jurisdiction and to keep the agency in the loop on Israeli security matters whilst assisting with investigations; it was a far more genuinely liaising role than Ziva's had ever been. Alice, daughter of an FLDS escapee and an efficient redhead in her late thirties, with an Israeli husband who was a professor in Middle East history – whose class Ziva had taken the previous term – oversaw her team of Carpenter and Jack Whitstable. Carpenter was young, bubbly and keen, having only arrived from FLETC three months ago, via six months in Rota; Whitstable was an older man around the same age as Gibbs and Pride, quiet and stoic, who had joined NCIS after fourteen years in the Navy.

The other team was the one Tony would be directly leading. It consisted of Nicola Rowntree, a former Chicago cop who had wanted to broaden her horizons and who was also the office's version of McGee with less awkwardness, and Sam Kingston, a burly black New Yorker whose wife was in the Navy. Gavriel floated between the two teams as needed.

An update email sent to Vance, Tony shut down his computer and gathered up his belongings. Noticing this, Nicola raised her head. "You off?"

"Promised my girlfriend I'd cook dinner," explained Tony. He didn't want them to know yet who he was seeing, when the relationship was so new and all the Tel Aviv staff knowing of her.

"See you tomorrow, then, Boss."

"Goodnight." Tony strode out of the squadroom and took his phone out of his pocket to call Ziva, who answered on the third ring. "I'm just leaving work," he told her. "You got the assignment done?"

"Yes, although I think perhaps I did not explain my points very well –"

"You'll have aced it, I'm sure," he cut in, not wanting to let her fret about something she could no longer do anything about (and was probably nigh on perfect anyway). "You did sleep last night, right?"

" _Yes_ , Tony, I slept. For six whole hours. Do you need me to pick up anything for dinner?"

"I've got everything. See you at my place?"

"Absolutely. Goodbye for now." She hung up.

With a bounce to his stride now, Tony made his way to his car and then headed back to his apartment to get dinner ready. As he drove, he considered the recent changes in his life and how he felt about them. Things were extremely different compared to two months earlier and he couldn't deny that a lot of it had been terrifying, but he decided, as he parked his car, that it had been well and truly worth it, and it had been just what he had needed.

It had definitely been the right decision and having Ziva back in his life was the icing on the cake – more than he could have hoped for, if he was honest. For the first time in a long time, Tony DiNozzo was content and happy.

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 **~fin~**


End file.
